Indiana Jones and the Shadow of the Vampire
by Jubalii
Summary: 10 years after the London Blitz, Seras is sent on a "routine clean-up" in India. When a small group of vampires suddenly turns into a dark plot for world domination, she finds that she must rely on her own wits and a suave American with a penchant for danger... and fedoras. [Collab with AvengingNeko]
1. Indiana Jones & the Predictable Villains

**Author's Note:** Juju here, again! This time it's a collab with AvengingNeko, who wrote over half of this due to my mushy brain-parts. I promise to do better next time!

* * *

Seras Victoria rolled out of bed with a great jaw-cracking yawn, catching herself at the last minute from tumbling face first into her chair by grasping the shadow hand that encircled her wrist, allowing the guiding force to drop her neatly into the seat right way around. A blood pack floated in midair to her face and she snatched it with her right hand, sinking elongated fangs into the filmy skin with a groan. _Ahh…_ Morning blood running through her system like a shot of caffeine, the blonde's red eyes sparkled as she smiled up at the form of her familiar; Captain Pip Bernadotte tipped his hat at her before pointing up at the ceiling and smirking as he faded back into the swirling mist attached to her left shoulder. Seras snorted a fond smile on her lips as she grabbed the second bag and shook her arm until the shadows resembled a more humanoid shape, hiding the unnatural skin color with long sleeves and a glove with the added cloaking of hiding her shadow hand in her coat pocket. Seras Victoria the Vampire spared a final glance in the mirror, winking back at the smirking visage within before skipping up the stairs to an impatient Integra's office.

She was going on a solo mission today! So exciting! Hardly able to contain herself, the Draculina hurried just that little bit faster to reach the enormous study just as the last of the sun's rays left the large windows.

"Officer Victoria. You're late."

"Am I, Sir?" Seras queried politely, knowing she was no such thing, "I apologize; I'll do better next time." Mirth lit her bloody gaze, and the secretive little smile on her lips made her appear the splitting image of her missing Sire: not that anyone would tell her such a thing, of course.

The elder blonde shook her head, large wire framed glasses hiding her expressive eyes as she sorted through the paperwork scattered across her desk, "Hmph."

A companionable silence filled the room between the two women as Sir Hellsing shuffled the necessary documents to one side. Finally, she spoke, not yet looking up at her vampire. "Rumors have spread from India about potential vampire threat, and to make matters worse, still more rumors have reached Her Majesty's ears about Nazis." The females shared identical grimaces of incredulous disgust, "Your mission, Agent Victoria, is to search and destroy. Let none of those cowardly FREAKS escape the country alive."

Seras saluted sharply, face set in determined lines, "Sir, yes Sir."

Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing pushed the pertaining documents over to her little vampire companion and leaned back in her chair, looking unexpectantly weary. "Seras…"

"Sir?"

"Be careful. I have… a bad feeling about this." Gloved fingers reached out for the cigar case sitting on the side of her desk, deft fingers preparing and lighting the rather masculine scented cancer stick, the smoke wreathing her blonde head like a halo. "I should have known the London War would not be the last we'd see of those Nazi monsters. Cowards, retreating from the face of battle to foreign shores."

Seras moved around the desk to kneel at Integra's chair, placing a gentle hand over the one on the elder female's lap, that fond smile directed at Captain Bernadotte returning. "Sir," she hummed, "Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, Master of my Master, I will return to you. I promise."

Integra stared hard into the face of her vampire before nodding and pulling away, standing with her back to the Draculina to face the rising moon outside the window. "You had better. Now go, your plane departs in an hour."

Just as Seras stood to retrieve her papers, Integra spoke again, "And Seras? I expect daily reports back. No matter what."

"Of course, my Master."

* * *

No matter how long she lived, Seras knew that she'd always enjoy plane rides. There was something amazing about flying above the clouds, her gaze on the stars that seemed to be just out of reach. It always amazed her that only a few years ago, she'd never have been able to even bother flying across the ocean without being nauseous, and couldn't even stand an ounce of daylight filtering through the screen. It was a testament to her massive growth as a vampire, and although she was proud of herself for being able to handle plane rides, she still enjoyed taking the dark overnight flights best.

Of course, the best thing about red-eye flights was that they were almost always empty and no one bothered to wonder why she was staring out at the dark porthole as if she could see what was outside. On this one, there were only three other people besides herself and the flight attendant. Two women were chattering aimlessly at the front of the plane, one with a book lying forgotten in her lap as they shared stories about the countries they'd come from and where they were going. A man across the aisle from her was asleep, his pudgy body shaking with every snore that rattled softly from his mouth. She suddenly felt alone, but then again, she was used to be ostracized.

She was the only vampire that she knew, besides the ones she killed and her Master. She didn't know if Alucard was alive, or dead, or stuck in Limbo, or even if he was trying to get back to her side at all. Sometimes she could swear that she heard him calling her in her dreams; not the nicknames he made for her, but her true name. But in the end, she always woke up.

A part of her wanted to say goodbye to Hellsing and England, and venture off to see the world on her own. She had eternity, after all. She often daydreamed about it during long, boring nights when there weren't missions. She could visit all the wonders of the world. She could find others like herself and form partnerships, if not friendships. She could spend centuries training with monks in the mountains, decades travelling the deserts with a caravan, years hitchhiking across the U.S.A. with nothing but the clothes on her back. However, in each fantasy there was always another there, sometimes faceless and genderless; she never had to be alone in her dreams.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Captain Bernadotte spouted off about how she wasn't alone with him around but she ignored him and turned over in her seat, her head resting against the wall as she gazed out the porthole at the glittering stars.

* * *

When the plane landed it was, thankfully, cloudy early morning light that filtered through the windows. The Draculina busied herself with getting through customs and keeping track of her carryon, and was relieved when she saw the woman with glasses and tightly coiled silver hair waiting for her with a sign at her feet reading 'Hellsing'.

"Hello," Seras chirped cheerfully, smiling without showing her teeth, "Are you Juketti?" Hellsing had a good number of international branches scattered about the world, dealing with their own localized monsters, but the English home base was the main dealer of undead silencing. The woman bowed her head in return before holding out a hand to shake Seras'.

"I am Juketti, yes," she answered in a slow tone, her accent almost nonexistent. "But you may call me by my given name, Farida. Welcome to Delhi, Miss Victoria." Seras shook hands, surprised by the woman's strong grip, despite her silver hair. Was she not an old woman? She had silver hair, but her toned body and youthful face with only slight wrinkles made her look only a few years older than Sir Integra; perhaps in her late 30s. "We've been expecting you. Allow me to take your luggage."

"No, no thanks, really! I've got it; it's not heavy at all." Seras grabbed her bag (and the blood sealed inside that came through special security) and waved the older woman's hands away. "I can handle it." The woman smiled knowingly and nodded, turning to lead the way out of the airport.

"Very well then, Miss Victoria. We'll speak in the limo about our… problem."

* * *

Seras watched the streets pass by through the windows, which were tinted so that no one could see in. Of course, when everyone saw the red crest on the limo they immediately moved out of the way, making strange signs at the vehicle as it rode through. They raised their hands, fingers spread slightly. Some even said something, although of course Seras couldn't hear it in the car.

"It's _hamsa_. It protects against the evil eye," Farida explained. "Perhaps you English keep your secrets well, but here all know of who we are and what we do." She calmly took another sip of her wine and continued her scrutiny of the pale Englishwoman sitting across from her. "More specifically, who I am and what I do." She offered a hand to Seras. "Would you care for a drink? It is excellent fruit juice."

"Yes, thank you." Seras took the offered juice and smelled the citrusy fragrance drifting off the slight froth. She took a sip and smiled happily. "Delicious. But—why would they think that they needed protection from you?" Farida smiled mysteriously and stirred her wine by shaking the glass.

"I am a half-vampire child. My mother is one of the most feared in our culture," she said insipidly, as if she were commenting on the weather. Seras choked mid-sip and it took her a few minutes to recover.

"You? A what, dhampir?" Seras frowned. She didn't know that half-breeds existed. How did that happen? Surely—surely vampires didn't have a working reproductive tract; if they did, she had a bit to worry about, since hers most definitely stopped ten years ago.

"Vampiredzhiya, svetocher, dhampir, half-vampire; we have many names, for we exist in many cultures throughout the world." Farida explained all of this calmly, as if it were all rather boring to her. "But we are very rare… do not be alarmed by this news," she added quickly, seeing the shock openly evident on Seras' face. "I know of only three other of my kind at this moment, and they have not been any new ones made in the last hundred years at least. Truly, it is a freak of nature for it to happen."

"I see," Seras said slowly, letting the thought sink in. "So, do you have all the powers of a normal vampire?" she queried. Farida laughed softly, shaking her head.

"No, no. I have no powers, other than a longer than average lifespan. I have been alive for centuries, but in truth my body is that of a thirty-year-old woman. You would hardly be able to tell that I was abnormal, if it weren't for the unnatural hair." Her silver hair caught the lights of the limo and shone like moonlight. Seras nodded; perhaps that was for the best, after all. Farida leaned back in the chair, staring out the window as her eyes became distant.

"My mother, Chiruthevi, was pregnant at the time of her rebirth. When I came to term, I emerged this way. I grew within a year to adulthood, after which I didn't age past thirty years. I've been this way for a long time," she acknowledged with a sigh. "It only increases my pity for true Nosferatu. I will never live as long as you will, yet already I long for death."

She caught Seras' expression and smiled almost wearily. "Child, you are young yet. Have you even lived for half a century?" Seras shook her head. "No, but you will. And you will learn what I mean. I have lived many lifetimes; have seen many things. And with each passing season my longing for a peaceful end to life grows. I am ready for my afterlife."

"I see," Seras mumbled again, not sure of what to say. What _was_ there to say, when someone tells you that they long to die? "I'm sorry; you said that your mother was feared? Why is she? Because she's a vampire?" Farida's smile, which hadn't left her lips the entire trip, fell and she turned away, her face hardening.

"I am ashamed of my lineage. My mother is a cruel and merciless creature; even in her human life she was so, and she does not regret a single moment. I sold my freedom for her life, only to be cast away like a dog." Seras blinked at her in confusion.

"Your freedom?" she asked. Farida nodded sharply, her mouth tightening.

"I threw myself at the feet of Hellsing soldiers, begging for them to spare my mother's life. They were planning on killing her for causing trouble in the Himalayas. They agreed, since it would give them a chance to study a half-breed. It's only been in the past hundred years that I've been allowed out as a field agent, instead of locked in a cell like a common lab rat." Her fingers tightened on the console she was resting her arm on before immediately relaxing. Her face schooled back into a friendly smile, if not a little forced.

"Even so, I do enjoy my job. Working as a field agent, I find, is very rewarding. Which is why this case irritates me so; I cannot solve it, no matter what I do. Even my contacts in my mother's coven have no leads for me."

"Right, the case." Seras leaned forward, but she was suddenly a little wary inside. Alucard had always told her to trust her gut instincts, and right now she felt that her companion had a less-than-healthy grudge against the Organization. But at the same time, the woman hadn't passed herself off as a threat in any way, and had even acknowledged that she had no true powers, which meant that Seras could easily overpower her. Seras couldn't help but feel a little flabbergasted over the whole thing.

"As you are aware, Miss Victoria, my country is having troubles with vampires, thus your involvement. My mother's people have sworn a contract not to interfere with mortals beyond the need for food, and there are strange… creatures. In the mountains, you cannot hear the animals for their moaning. The villages surrounding the mountains have been complaining of pale strangers that flinch at the _hamsa_, and only emerge at dusk. Each time I, or members of my division, have ventured out to track them down, they have fled our pursuit. The only thing we know for sure is that they are indeed vampires. Perhaps from the European continent. I believe those are your specialty?" There was something a little odd in Farida's tone, and the smile she gave sent shivers of warning down Seras' spine, but the girl nodded and smiled thoughtfully.

"Yes, I suppose that you could call it a specialty," she said evenly, trying not to sound too excited. Killing vampires in India was, as much as she hated saying it, almost a vacation from Hellsing. The FREAK vampires had only lasted so long, and Seras' work had slowly devolved into patrolling the mansion and bodyguard duty. Very dull, very tedious.

"So what village is it? Are we heading there now?" she almost tipped forward as she sat on the edge of her seat. She wasn't ready to head back to England, but she couldn't help but admit the thought of working her muscles for more than grunt work had her inner vampire jumping in place, ready for action. Farida looked surprised.

"You wish to go now?" she said, eyes slightly narrowed. "You wouldn't want to… rest first, perhaps?" Seras shook her head.

"No, it won't take me long, if it's just a small infestation. I'll be done and done by morning."

A tense silence fell between the pair before Farida lifted a small phone from the inside of the door, speaking in short, almost sharp, tones, the car turned and left the inner roads for the highway that would lead out to the countryside.

"As you wish, Miss Victoria." The phone was set down and the silver haired woman swirled her wine. Seras fidgeted, sipping her cup and forcing herself to recline back in the plush seating. The other's attitude put her on edge, and she had to fight to keep her arm from dissolving into a vortex of shadows as Pip's voice piped up in her head_. "Isn't it a little early to go on a vampire hunt?"_ The Frenchman was teasing her, but she was not amused. Huffing inwardly, she pushed him back to the fringes of her mind, _"Just keep watch, Captain."_

* * *

It was about as backwater as she could imagine. Dirt roads, shacks for homes, and naked children that barely got out of the limo's way as they rolled into the mountainside village. Farida bid Seras to stay in the car and she watched as the woman spoke to the people in the village. From her motions, she must have been warning them against making the "magic" hand signs against Seras. The village leaders argued for a moment before nodding and Farida came back to fetch Seras.

"They will refrain from cursing you, but they insist you touch not a single drop of village blood. Do you have your own reserve?" she asked. "If not, we will gladly supply you."

"I'm alright. I have blood inside my luggage." Farida nodded once, expecting as much. She backed away and spoke to the driver in her native tongue. The burly man nodded sharply and moved to get Seras' luggage, carrying it into the biggest house in the center of the ramshackle huts.

The people moved away, parting like the Red Sea as Seras moved through their ranks. The women tugged their naked children away, the latter looking on with dark, curious stares at the pale woman with eyes the color of blood. She stared back just as curiously and they turned to hide in their mother's skirts. The men gave her hardened glares that let her know just how unwelcome she was into their village, moving away and muttering under their breath as she passed by.

"I get the feeling that I'm not wanted," she whispered under her breath to Farida. The woman turned back to look at her, her eyes slightly amused behind her glasses.

"Can you blame them? The only other foreigners they've seen have stolen their sons and daughters in the night. They are on their guard now, and with good reason." Seras nodded and looked around at the mountains, their snowy caps dyed by the sunset.

"Which mountain is it?" she asked Farida. Farida posed the same question to the natives and pointed out the smallest mountain in the range.

"There. It's a small mountain, but steep and dangerous to climb. Where humans cannot tread, these sons of devils leap like goats up the side. Or so the elders say."

"Oh, that won't be any problem for me." Seras grinned, baring her teeth at Farida as the shadow at her feet expanded, showing a single scythe like wing attached to her left shoulder. The natives cried out and drew back to their homes, and Seras felt mildly guilty. But her excitement at a proper fight countered the emotion easily. "I should be back by morning." Seras promised, "But first, I need something from my bags."

A few minutes later found the Draculina jogging – to her, anyways, she was going a good 20mph at least – towards the mountain sucking down her crimson lunch. Armed with one of her smaller guns (she was teased back home by the men calling it "Kitten" since it resembled her Master's Jackal) Seras shoved the empty plastic bag into her belt - it's not nice to litter! - and craned her head back to examine the small mountain. It looked somehow sad, there was nothing green growing on it, and she couldn't detect even a hint of the local wild life at its base. There was a subtle tang of old blood in the air, growing stronger the closer she got.

Seras' ears pricked as she thought she heard something on the wind, and she picked up her pace a little, bounding forward in great leaps of speed, feeling a little giddy. Secure in the fact that no one important was watching, she did a little cartwheel and giggled as she bumped into a small rock. Shaking her head, she scolded herself lightly to take the mission more seriously.

"_Mignonette."_ Pip's voice stopped her dead, and she felt her hackles rise as the wind in hear ears stopped, revealing the low moan of ghouls. A lot of ghouls. Nodding to herself, she advanced with cautious steps, hugging the craggy sides of the mountain as she ascended the steep slopes. The wind changed and she nearly gagged at the concentrated rot of congealed blood smacking her in the face. It had been years since she'd found a group this large together.

Shaking her head to clear it of the dizzy feeling, she pulled her jacket off, securing the sleeves around her waist as he shadow arm expanded to the swirling whip like shape it took during the London Blitz. Freeing the gun from her hip, she leapt silently through the chasm to land in the midst of the ghoul army, face split in a maniacal grin that eerily resembled her Master. The zombified creatures turned to stare at her, silent for a moment, before they growled and lunged with dirty scabby hands. Slicing through them easily, she had to fight the urge to laugh. She understood, now, at least some of her Master's enjoyment in battle when one had so much more power than their pitiful opponents. Heads rolled as she mercifully ended their lives, without needing to waste a single precious bullet.

Black blood and ash coated the miniature valley floor, the wind unable to sweep it all away, caged in as they were between the mountain walls. Just as her shadows reached out to silence the last group of ghouls, something shifted, a rock clattering towards the ground. The Draculina looked up, and froze in shock for a second, having forgotten her mission briefing with Sir Integra and their foreknowledge of the Nazi bastards. Having shown surprise, she decided to just play along with it; there on the wall was a bloody swastika.

"Not the bloody Nazis again!" Seras swore, aware that she was being watched. Something moved that pebble on purpose so she'd know who made the corpse army.

"Yes, Frauline, the _bloody Nazis _again!" A voice sneered, the words echoing off the close rock faces, and Seras snarled as she turned, trying to locate the source. Pip's warning came too late (_Behind you!_) as something hard cracked her in the skull. She staggered, growling and hissing like a cornered beast as her shadows lashed out. The Frenchman's voice was muffled as something cold splashed over her, and she screamed. It burned like fire! Unknown to the Draculina, her smoking skin was being surrounded by a bloody glow as her instictive side kicked in, self preservation at its finest. And then everything went dark as multiple heavy weights collided with her form simultaneously.

"Put her in the cage with the other one."


	2. Indiana Jones & the Rascally Runes

Seras came too slowly; her skin felt raw and stiff, like a bad case of sunburn. Her nostrils flared and she cringed. She couldn't smell anything beyond the rank, cloying tang of burned flesh. Cracking an eyelid open painfully, she observed the reddened state of her arm and frowned. Her shadow-made arm was missing. _What…?_

Something shifted to her right and her head jerked up to stare wide eyed at the man in the cell with her; well-dressed in traveler's gear with a battered brown fedora at his feet, the human jumped back in surprise at her quick movements.

"My god!" He exclaimed, "What did they do to you?" Seras was confused for a moment; he clearly had an American accent, and they were still in India as far as she knew.

"Who're you?" Seras croaked. Her throat felt as dry as a desert, and being locked into a small room with a living breathing human was putting her restraint to a test.

"Are you alright?" He countered her question with another question, looking concerned at her missing arm and red eyes. "You look like you're about to have a brain hemorrhage." He sounded appalled. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he demanded, waving three dirt-smudged digits in front of her face. Seras coughed, and shook her head,

"My eyes are always like that. It's a side effect from some medication I took a few years back," she lied. Her voice was growing stronger the longer she talked, though she had to keep swallowing and make herself _not_ bite the hand that was not meant to feed her. "Who _are _you?"

"The name's Jones. Indiana Jones, to be exact." He looked up at the stonework that surrounded them. "And I still can't believe that they got me this time. I'm really getting too old for this," he muttered to himself, running a hand though his graying hair. "Ten years ago, maybe. Twenty years ago, sure. But now? I'll be glad if I can get through this with my bones intact."

Seras wanted to giggle at his one-sided tirade but she had to focus on herself as she slowly climbed to her feet, wincing and gritting her teeth against the pain that racked her body. What was wrong with her? She could hardly see the inside of the room, even though her eyes should have pierced the darkness easily. Blinking rapidly, she tried to make out the walls, at least. The wall closest to her gave her an answer. She saw the runes painted onto the surface and immediately a growl rose in the back of her throat.

"What's the matter?" the man named Jones asked and she turned back to face him, leaning on the bars of her cage for support. He came as close as he could, until only the bars and an arm's length separated him. Seeing him more closely, Seras realized that he was about ten years older than Sir Integra. She frowned; _Jeez, this poor guy caught in the middle of all this. _She felt a bit apprehensive: if they were in cages in the same room, it'd only be a matter of time before he found out that she was a vampire. "So, are you going to tell me your name, or just keep staring at the bars?"

"Oh!" Seras jerked her head up, looking at him glossy-eyed. "I'm sorry. I'm Seras, Seras Victoria." She reached her good arm out and shook hands with the American. "How did you get to be here?" she asked, trying to quash her rising panic. Her powers were nullified, she was alone with a human and _starving_, and worst of all—she clearly wasn't going to be able to check in tonight. Integra would be beyond pissed. _Hmm, guess you were right, Sir. Your feelings usually check out, don't they? _Indiana looked vexed for a moment before sighing.

"It's always the Nazis; they keep trying to steal things that belong in museums for the world to see. You see, I'm a teacher but I'm also an archeologist. I don't know _how _many times I keep having to kick these guys' asses before they'll learn."

"Yeah, Nazis just don't know when to quit, do they?" Seras laughed. Indiana's face became serious, and he blinked at her in the gloom of the darkened room.

"You sound like you have personal experience with them, little lady. Exactly why are _you _here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Business." Seras answered, tone mild, but there was a hint of challenge in her eyes as the one armed woman - surely no older than twenty one! - who was clearly not a native of India watched the American.

"Business," he questioned flatly, "and what would that be little lady?" Seras eyed the man thoughtfully, weighing her options.

"Investigating strange occurrences. My employer's India branch is a strong resource we intend to keep intact. Workers going missing aren't very good for publicity." She graced him with a closed lip smile, "My employer takes great pains to ensure her employees around the world do not get predated on."

"Your employer…" Indiana said, not bothering to hide his suspicious tone. "And _who _might this mysterious employer be? What's his name?" Seras shook her head.

"No, my employer's female." She turned and looked once more at the dark cavern that they seemed to be in. She decided that they must be deep inside the mountain. "Didn't anyone teach you the laws of survival? Lesson #1: Don't make assumptions. Now we better find a way out of here before those Nazis come back." Indiana nodded.

"You're right."

* * *

"Well," Seras chirped, "first thing's first; did they search us and take all our shiny escape toys?" She patted at her shirt thoughtfully, feeling for the hidden bobby pins she kept in her bra - well, lock picking was never a very lawful skill, but useful when one forgot their keys. The cheerful blonde's expression soured more and more as her hand searched her body before she spit a curse. "Damnit!" Glancing up at Indiana, her brow arched at seeing his somewhat shameless stare—not that he was ogling her exactly, but he wasn't looking away either—and lack of similar patting-down.

"I got nothin'," he informed her with a nod. "I've had enough dealings with Nazis that they know not to let me have anything." He shrugged, and then examined the walls.

"Mmph…." Seras ran a hand through her hair, and then hissed when she realized even the bobby pin hidden inside her hair tie had been found and removed. "So, you're an archeologist, you said? Do you know what these runes mean?" Her tone was carefully neutral, nothing but casual curiosity as she gestured at the walls.

"I'm no expert, but I've dealt with a few supposedly magical elements in my day." He peered up at the wall. "It's almost too dark for me to make out. I bet it was written using blood. Human blood is most potent, but animal blood's cheaper to come by. Either way, blood is supposed to be powerful at sealing spells into runes." Seras wrinkled her nose, not having thought of that. No wonder she was hungrier than usual. Even dried, the faint smell of blood hung in the air.

"Can you make out the symbols? I can see a bit better than you, I think; do you want me to describe them to you?" she asked helpfully, trying to sound only vaguely interested. She didn't want him to know _why _she needed the information until it was no longer possible to hide it. Indiana scowled at her for a moment.

"What's with you youngsters these days? Acting like I'm blind and deaf because of a few gray hairs," he grumbled. Seras almost retorted that she wasn't that much younger than him, but bit her tongue at the last moment. He stood for another few minutes and stared at the runes, tracing the shape with his finger in the air and mumbling to himself. After a terse moment he shook his head.

"It's a spell to hinder something, but I just can't figure out what. Those two connected symbols there mean that something's power is drained—no, not drained; _locked_. It's locking something away and keeping it there, but what?"

"What indeed, Dr. Jones?" a soft, high voice drifted over them, echoing slightly in the empty space. "It's _so nice_ to see one's work being appreciated; I'd hate to have you miss out on the true meaning." Footfalls sounded behind them and the caged bodies turned to see a man stepping out of the shadows.

He was dressed in what Seras immediately recognized as a Nazi SS uniform. The high, black boots stopped above what she mentally referred to as the "wings" of the pants, where the material flared out in a noticeable curve. The gray-green jacket and pants were covered in insignias and medals and the high-peaked hat sat jauntily on his head, the skull-and-crossbones emblem of the SS glinting in the dim light above the brim. The man himself was regal, handsome; his blonde hair slicked back perfectly, shadows playing across the planes of his face, gray-steel eyes shining out from under the hat.

Those expressive eyes: they could have easily been lit in joviality, or deepened in painful sadness. But they were flat, emotionless; like a piece of blank paper. His stare was death and suffering and a complete lack of compassion or empathy. Eyes are the window to the soul; he was evil to the core.

He tilted his head at the pair of them, gaze slowly becoming curious as a black-gloved hand reached up to stroke the hairless jaw. He finally rested his eyes on Indiana and bowed at the waist, arm bent in the perfect poise of etiquette.

"I welcome you, Dr. Jones. Welcome to my little mountain vacation home. Do you like it?" he asked, his German accent lilting the words and making him sound absolutely _diabolical._ He was the perfect movie villain; he was a pristine demon in human's clothing.

"Heinrich Roestel; I should have known that foul stench was _you_ lurking about in the shadows," Indiana spat in reply. The man smiled grimly and tsked, shaking one finger mockingly.

"Now, now, Dr. Jones. What is it with you Americans and your complete lack of manners?" he cooed, but Seras caught the undercurrent of loathing in his voice. He pointed to his collar, where he wore twin patches that held what looked like leaves of some sort. "That's _Brigadeführer_ to you."

"Well, you know "we Americans": leaves of three, let them be," Indiana fired back cynically. Heinrich rolled his eyes at the American's goading and turned to the other cage.

"As enjoyable as it is talking to you, Doctor, I see that I'm neglecting my other guest." He strolled up to the bars, making sure to stay out of arm's reach. "Hello, my _Frauline_, Seras Victoria." He rolled her name off his tongue before giving her a wide smile. She was surprised to see blunt, human teeth; in her mind's eye, a monster like him should have sharp teeth ripe for ripping his victims apart.

"You Nazis just don't know how to give up, do you? Filthy bunch of rats," she sneered in reply. Heinrich laughed, his high timbre echoing off the rafters.

"Ah, you English! Always so straightforward; yes, my dear—we are rats. You see one or two of us and you might set out traps, but you aren't worried. It isn't until we come pouring out of your cupboards, overpowering you with our sheer multitudes and strength before you begin to understand; but by then it's far too late." He sighed in contentment at the mental image he'd just created. "Yes, we are indeed rats. But…." He tilted his head once more, staring sideways at her as if she were the most puzzling thing he'd ever come across. "Your kind doesn't give up so easily either, I'm afraid."

He turned and walked away, heel to toe. His prisoners remained silent, the only sounds being the sharp tapping of his boots. He paused and pulled a walkie-talkie from a pouch on his uniform, speaking sharply into it in German. Suddenly, bright light flooded the room. Seras winced, and realized what she was looking at with a shocked gasp. It was her—ten years ago.

"Seras Victoria, the vampire. Blood Heiress to the throne of Dracul; protégé of the Vampire King himself." Heinrich grinned again, this time looking as if she were the best thing he'd ever seen. "Beautiful, simply beautiful." The screen flashed, showing footage of (how did they even get those tapes?) of the Valentine Massacre, of her tearing apart bloody Hellsing Ghouls. It changed and she was in the palace, shooting the video screen of the Major per orders. It changed again and suddenly wave upon wave of flames and blood and death.

"You'd do well to pay attention, Dr. Jones. This will come in handy when you help me ascertain my goal." He leered at the archeologist pressed against the bars of his cage, clearly horrified at what he was seeing on the screen above him on the opposite side of the room. "The Battle of London, The Millennium War, The London _krieg_, whatever you want to call it; a rose by any other name, yes?" He looked up with a savage fondness at the images. "Seras here was a brand new vampire, but doesn't she look _ravishing_?"

Seras couldn't look at all the different videos fast enough. Down in the corner was Integra and Anderson, along with the black-cloaked Iscariots; the upper-right showed the impaled body of Enrico Maxwell, but then it flashed and the burning swastika that had once been London filled the right side of the screen. Now, there she was with Integra, who was talking to her—what had she been saying? Who knows? And then—the screen filled up with a face she'd never forget, no matter how many decades passed.

"Master," she said softly, gripping the bars tightly as she looked up on the carnage being wrought by her armor-clad creator. Indiana gagged as he watched the soldiers and knights alike being ravaged in blood and battered souls.

"What the hell is this?!" he cried, sounding weak. Heinrich spoke into the walkie-talkie and suddenly the room burst into sound. Screams, crackling flames, and above all Maxwell's high-pitched shriek, amplified by the microphones he'd been standing behind.

"_You're a fiend, a monster, a devil! You—Dracula!"_ As the images progressed, the sounds all blurred together until Seras wasn't sure which were really in the room and which were her own memories, the ones she'd been striving to forget lest the nightmares drive her insane.

"_Heathens like yourself""An Angel?""Blood is the currency of the soul""Guten tag""Police Girl, don't dawdle""Master, my Master!""Kiss it for me""A River of Death""Seras Victoria""Don't be a cowardSerasmySerasmissvictoriamacherallhostagesdeadhelpmesendthesenazistohellhelpmehelpmemasterwhereareyou_

"_**Stop it**_!" she shrieked, her hand bending the bar she was holding like putty, despite the pain that it must have been to grasp it so tightly with burned skin. Heinrich gasped, his blank eyes widening in a mockery of surprise. He didn't seem frightened, only highly curious and even gleeful.

"Aha, Seras Victoria— you really are a true Draculina, aren't you? Even with the runes, you can still fight me." He gave her a thumbs-up, even as he backed away. "You are truly a special little lady, am I right? But, after all, as your pathetic excuse for a sire fell you would have no choice but to rise in his place, am I right?" he asked, pointing at the screen. Seras looked up to see Alucard fighting Walter, the blood, everything happening in the wrong way at the right moment to make him vanish away forever….

"No. _No_!" she shouted, pulling the bars away and stepping through them. Powers or no powers, no one _dared _call her master pathetic in her presence. She snarled, knowing that her own hunger was working against her but not caring. Her peripherals went crimson and she honed in on the dead meat-sack that had the audacity to utter a single derogatory term within earshot. "You fucking bastard. You're dead; _you're fucking dead_" she growled, feeling her powers grow within her from her own rage as she stepped further and further away from the suppressing runes.

Heinrich reached the far wall and stood against it, his eyes twinkling in mirth as he watched his impending doom stalk towards him. He seemed to know better than to run away and turn his back to her. He chuckled softly.

"There's something to be said for blue-blooded vampires and their loyalties. Even a dog like Alucard managed to find a willing serf," he said as he snapped his fingers. Behind her, Seras could hear her own scream of her Master's name as Anderson laughed, and laughed, and the enraged Draculina voiced a feral scream as she lunged at the _thing_ that was talking about her Master. In that moment of being in midair, the shadows of her left arm flickering at her shoulder, two weights crashed down on her, bearing her to the floor where her nose snapped wetly. Indiana's voice, enmeshed with the lurid sound track of the London Blitz, yelped, "Get off me!"

Seras turned, throwing her subduers off with animal grace and froze for a split second to observe the mortal man being held from behind. Grotesquely long fangs protruded from the Nazi's mouth, threatening to pierce the archaeologist's throat.

"So, little Frauline—for the great childe of Alucard the Vampire King, this would be a piece of cake, no?" Heinrich clapped his hands once and the vampire tensed up around the archeologist. "So, do you want to give in, or are you going to test your luck against my fastest subordinate?"

Seras bared her teeth in a feral snarl as a bone-chilling growl rumbled in her chest. Indiana, who was forcing himself not to move accidentally impale himself on the fangs he could feel threatening his neck, shivered and went pale. Distantly, Seras felt pity for the poor man thrown into a pit of vampires. Indiana cried out as the dark-haired vampire pulled his left arm painfully, twisting it behind his back and up, threatening to dislocate it.

"Well, Frauline?" Seras' mind raced as she sought out her options, but Pip was still unresponsive, and her shadows were still mere wisps from the stump of her arm. Well fuck. Spitting at the commander's feet in disgust, Seras straightened to her full and unimpressive height with a regal look on her pixie face.

"I concede, for the moment. I won't give you the satisfaction of claiming his blood on my hands." The Brigadeführer clapped his hands in glee and motioned for the Nazi to back away.

"Wonderful; wonderful! Now, it's finally time to get down to business."


	3. Indiana Jones & the Split Second Escape

**Author's Note:** Ketti and I really hauled ass with this chapter! We decided that we'll feel proud of each other. So here's chapter 3 for your viewing pleasure!

* * *

The Nazis walked their two prisoners along the craggy path, heading deeper and deeper into the mountain. Heinrich walked in front, the ever present smile lingering on his face and giving him the appearance of hysteria. Behind him, Indiana and Seras walked side by side. Both were bound, but they knew that Seras could easily break through the ropes as if they were woven from wet paper. Only the knife that a Nazi held against the archeologist's neck kept her at bay. Behind them, a line of about 50 Nazis walked closely behind, making sure that there was no escape for their victims.

"You could have told me," Indiana hissed in the blonde's ear, too low for the Nazis behind them to hear. He must have known that Seras would hear him. Seras fleetingly wondered if the human knew more about vampires than he'd let on.

"I try to keep it a secret," she breathed, her words almost inaudible. She projected her mind to her fellow prisoner's, trying to help him hear her with telepathic thought. "My job is to keep humans from knowing about our kind."

"And you're clearly doing such a good job," he snapped. She shifted her eyes, seeing him in her peripherals. His face was a mix of fury and barely disguised fear. Seras felt pity surge in her undead little heart for the man mixed up in the business of vampires and Nazis. This whole thing reminded her in a twisted way of the situation in Cheddar, when that excuse for a vampire had attempted to use her as a meat shield to save his own life. With the blade against the mortal's throat, they were keeping the Draculina in line.

Or so they thought.

A wickedness filled her, and showed for a moment in her crimson eyes as each step they took away from the holding cell restored her powers. The fools. Pip's ghostly laughter echoed in her head as he read the plan in her mind. It would take some doing, but she knew they could pull it off.

"If I said I was sorry, would it make any difference?" Indiana jerked his head away, refusing to look at her. She watched her boots, pretending that she had to look at the ground to keep her balance on the uneven path. Many of the Nazis, Heinrich included, _had _to do so, and she felt a keen sense of satisfaction, along with the hope that one of them would fall on their face.

"No," he finally spat. "Because you turned out to be one hell of a failure. You've got all these powers and you _still _got caught." Seras frowned but didn't reply. He had no right to judge her, especially since she saved his life, but she'd have enough time to fuss about that once they'd escaped.

"Didn't I say quiet!?" the Nazi snapped, and Indiana fell to his knees as his captor caught him in the kidney with a well-aimed punch. Seras almost gasped as a shot fired out and the Nazi fell into a dusty pile of ash. She looked around to see Heinrich click his gun and stick it back into its holster.

"_Dummkopf! Was habe ich gesagt?_ The prisoners are not to be touched! They must be in top form if our plan is to succeed! How can they go through the maze if one of them can't walk?!" He stared at the Nazis in stony silence for a while before tsking and turning back around, making a gesture for them to follow.

Seras watched out of the corner of her eye as one of the Nazis promptly stepped up to take over the knife wielding job, and idly toyed with a thought of how to use the trigger happy Brigadeführer's nature against his plan. She dropped the idea after a moment, sticking to her original scheme.

Minutes passed before they arrived at an ominous looking cave mouth. Seras' brow rose in question and she quietly snorted her amusement at the monstrous face carved around the entrance. "Well, that's inviting."

A blow struck the back of her head and she staggered in surprise at not having sensed it coming. Blood oozed down her scalp before being sluggishly reabsorbed into the healing wound. Unable to balance herself with her arm tied to her side, she fell against Indiana with a grimace.

"Quiet, Frauline," spat a replacement guard as she was hauled up to her feet by the ropes tied around her throat attached to her arms and waist.

Heinrich turned on his heel with a snarl, his gun raised threateningly, "What did I just tell you? _Mine Got_, you have the attention span of gnats!" Seras had to fight the urge to flinch as Zorin's insult of Pip slapped her in the face.

The underlings muttered to themselves and shifted, quavering under the glare of the armed man. His upper lip curled for a moment before he composed himself and faced his two prisoners with an air of forced joviality. "Now that that unpleasantness is over with, my beautiful Frauline, let's get down to business. You see, my men and I are in need of a particular artifact at the center of the stone maze." Indiana made a rude noise in the back of his throat, which was ignored. "Doctor Jones here is very good at working through such obstacles!" Heinrich clapped his hands sarcastically.

"And what do you need me for?" Seras challenged, fire in her eyes even as a single droplet of her blood spattered to the roughhewn floor. That one droplet glowed subtly with power before being absorbed into the rock as Pip melted into the shadows of the cave mouth, waiting for his turn to strike.

"Isn't it obvious, my powerful little Draculina?" Seras recoiled from his touch with a snarl, fangs bared and eyes glowing with rage as he reached for her face, "Your power." The Brigadeführer's eyes narrowed and he gave her a lustful sneer. "Among other things. You'll be around a lot longer than our friend here, and I happen to like your plucky attitude." Seras felt her eyes widen as hate unfurled in her heart. She heard Pip's outraged hiss and almost flinched: if the Frenchman was any louder, someone would be sure to hear him.

"I'll die before that happens," she promised him. Heinrich laughed and his fingers tightened on her chin. She pulled away, only to run into the Nazi holding her still. All the soldiers were laughing now, dark chuckles that bounced off the cavern walls and echoed in her ears. Only Indiana was silent, his arms straining against the rope as he fought his bonds with a infuriated look in his eyes.

She met his gaze and the chocolate-colored orbs filled with a sense of helpless pity. He wanted to help her; she knew it. She smiled softly at him: _I'll be okay_, she whispered into his mind. He paled and she knew he had heard her speak into his mind. Her smile melted away as a long, cold tongue slid up the side of her cheek and licked inside her ear. She shivered in repulsion and Heinrich laughed.

"That's alright, little whore. You'll have a long time to get used to me." He finally let go of her, and she wished that she could break her bonds if only to wipe the cold traces of saliva off her face. Anything of his on her was disgusting and wrong, and she hated it.

"_Schnell! _I want to get there before nightfall!" Seras' ears perked up at the words. So it was daylight already? She filed the information to the back of her mind, picking up Pip's unease in the process.

_Cher. _Seras heard him, but focused on keeping her face as calm as a hostage could possibly be.

_Don't worry, Bernie. _She felt him recoil at the sound of the nickname she had dumped on him some years before. _We'll be okay. Just keep your cool. _

_I know, ma Cher, I know. There's only one man allowed to lick your face, and he's not here right now. _Seras barely kept the frown off her face. She knew Pip was only getting back at her, trying to ease his own worry with a joke. Even so… licking people's faces was gross. She didn't think that she'd even let her master do it. And besides, it still hurt to think about him, even a decade later.

She quickly put the thought out of her mind as she saw her chance coming up. Heinrich waited against a bend in the cave. Seras could see that the top of the cave lowered, and was touching the peaked brim of his hat. The walls, she had noticed, were also getting narrower and forcing the Nazis to crowd each other. She could hear them behind her, muttering to each other in German and exclaiming at times when they trod on each other's feet. She and Indiana had ended up walking shoulder to shoulder, but now she was forced in front of him as the walls closed in. The whole thing made her undead heart flip-flop in her chest: even after all these years, tight, enclosed spaces gave her a horrible sense of claustrophobia.

Seras counted down from ten as she spared a glance back over her shoulder at the Nazi with the knife; he was a good two steps behind Indiana, but Seras knew he was ready to strike at any sign of aggression on her part. Just ahead, behind the Brigadeführer she caught the barest hint of red swirling in the man's shadow. She had to fight the urge to smile.

The instant that she turned the corner Pip leaped at the Nazi, passing through Indiana to tackle the guard. She had seconds to react, and she thanked whatever God listened to Midians that she was fast. Grabbing a startled Indiana by the wrist, she swung him inwards to her chest and jumped. Pain ripped through her spine as (thankfully non-blessed) bullets pierced her flesh, but she refused to falter as she ran up the cavern walls. Deeper in and higher up she panted for breath as she held the now-shouting archaeologist firm to her gravity defying form. She could hear the Nazis' shouts echoing off the walls with the gunfire, and felt as though she would go deaf.

What felt like an eternity later, but surely must not have been no more than a minute or two, Seras saw a shaft of light and forced herself towards it, her legs beginning to shake with the strain. Just before she leapt through the opening, she looked down and observed the twisting passageways sprawling into the massive cavern.

She only had a moment to think on all the booby traps that must surely line those halls before she jumped. Shadows erupted from the stump of her arm to form a protective curtain - she ignored the man's near shriek of alarm - and she spun in the air to hoist the mortal higher up and more securely, Before they could fall more than a few dozen feet the shroud opened in the familiar shape of the wings she had used during the London Blitz. The rock face of the mountain threatened to tear her legs apart as the added weight of a passenger combined with her near exhaustion to turn their flight into something more closely related to a glide. Still she kept them going even as the sun began to blister her weakened form; she had to get them away from the Nazis.

* * *

"I don't think that they're following us. It's weird though; they must have seen us. They couldn't have _not _seen us. The whole fucking _mountainside_ saw us." Indiana absently punched the side of the rock he was leaning against as he stared out at the valley.

They had spent all of fifteen precious minutes searching for a cave that would please Seras. He couldn't help but get pissed at the girl's strange requests. The cave had to be shallow at the front, but deeper in the back to help them guard attacks. It had to be situated high off the valley to provide an ample viewpoint. He'd balked at her demand for it to be eastern facing, but she'd pointed at the burns erupting on the back of her arms and simply said "Sunlight". He'd given in after that.

"They probably didn't see us. Sunlight is harsh on our eyes, and especially hard for FREAKs to deal with. They don't get a power boost from clean blood like the rest of us do." Seras leaned back, cooling her burns against the far side of the cavern. She closed her eyes and sighed, focusing on letting the pain ebb away under the rock's touch. Her shadows swirled over her deepest wounds, and she felt Pip soothing them with phantom hands. She smiled softly as he moved up to her shoulders; he was even being chaste for the moment, and she didn't have to yell at him for straying under her shorts or up the side of her shirt.

"Our?" Indiana looked at her strangely before inching his way along the side of the cavern. He didn't want to go out there, but he really didn't want to stay in here either, even though _this _vampire had been nothing but kind to him and had even gone out of her way to ensure his safety. "Honestly, you all are a bunch of freaks to me. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the idea that vampires exist." He stared down at his ripped up shirt, fingering the brim of his hat. "You don't happen to have any smokes, do you?"

"Not for someone who calls me a freak." Seras shifted uncomfortably, wincing. She really wished her body would get a move on and heal. She needed blood. "And another thing; don't snap at me just because we were in a sticky situation. I was trying to save your ass, so a bit of gratitude would really make my day right now."

"You called _them_ freaks, little missy," Indiana retorted, ignoring her offhand order for him to show her some thanks. "And don't think that I won't be keeping my eye on you. I'm not turning into a vampire tonight, nor any other night." Seras gave him a look that made him wilt slightly.

"Of course you won't," she said evenly, although it was plain to see she was tired of his attitude at this point. "Only virgins become vampires, and I can smell the corruptness of your blood even from here." He opened his mouth to argue and she held up a hand. "Besides, I wasn't being mean to them. Those Nazis? They really are FREAKs. They have the FREAK chip implanted inside them; they weren't turned the natural way like I was."

"Natural," Indiana snorted. "There's nothing natural about it." He looked at her suspiciously. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"I didn't drop you," she replied simply. He opened his mouth, and then closed it without another word. "When night falls, we'll leave this place. I need to get to a place where I can contact Sir Integra; she's my boss. She's going to be furious that I didn't call earlier."

"Your boss. You mean the person who turned you?" Seras let out a bark of laughter and shook her head.

"No; here's' another fun fact. Vampires can only turn virgins of the opposite sex into other vampires, so that would be a moot point. And Sir Integra is a human. She's in charge of England's… well, she's the leader of the Hellsing Organization. Our job is to keep the public blissfully ignorant," Seras explained.

"You mean like the Men in Black," Indiana offered.

"The who?" Seras tilted her head.

"Never mind," Indiana muttered, leaning back against the wall. "So you're sort of a "good guy" vampire… vampiress. So what do I call you, Lady Vampire or something?"

"Technically, I'm a Draculina," Seras answered. "And "Seras" will do. I wasn't any sort of noble before I became a vampire, so I don't like it when people automatically assume that I'm that pompous."

"Draculina?" Now it was Indiana's turn to tilt his head in confusion. "You mean like Dracula? Wait a second…" he stopped, one hand on his chin. "That guy on the television, in the armor. You mean to tell me that he was—that Dracula is—Really? _Dracula!?" _

"That was Dracula… but he was also my master," Seras admitted quietly. "He was—is—the strongest vampire in the world. The Vampire King." Indiana leaned forward.

"Well, just get in touch with him and he can come do whatever-the-hell it was that he did on that T.V. screen!" he said excitedly. Seras shook her head, feeling tears prick her eyes. She tried to resolve not to cry, but her voice shook as she spoke.

"No, we can't. Master is… he's gone right now. He's been gone for ten years. And not a word." Indiana withered.

"You mean he's dead. So what, are you the Vampire Queen now?" He jumped back when Seras stood, her shadows arcing around the cavern.

"He's not dead!" she declared firmly, her voice echoing in the cave. "My master will return to me, because only a human could kill him, and those Nazi bastards weren't human!" She wiped her eyes with her good hand, her shadow arm still trying and failing to form. "He wouldn't leave me here forever alone," she added. "He wouldn't."

The man gave her a look of mixed pity and disgust as he grunted something and looked away from her back out the cave mouth to look for signs of pursuit. An awkward silence filled the little niche until he chanced a look back and jumped in alarm to see the little blonde monster passed out cold, her chest not moving. But then he forced himself to remember she was a vampire, and according to all the legends, they didn't need to breathe. Still, he edged a bit closer and looked at her with some concern.

* * *

It was a long two hours before the light began to change and his comatose companion began to stir. He was alarmed by her glowing eyes and the feral growl rumbling in her well-endowed chest, and he couldn't help but press back against the rough stone and inch towards the cave mouth where the sunlight promised some facsimile of safety.

The girl turned feral, _hungry_ eyes on him and he bared his own teeth in a challenge, wishing more than anything that he had his whip on hand. He saw her muscles tense and he prepared himself for a painful fall down the mountain if she jumped him, when she shook her head like an animal shaking water from their coat. Crimson eyes appraised him silently before she stood and extended her hand in a sign of peace, "Come on, then, we need to get moving before full dark. I have a contact in a village near by, we need to warn them and get my bags. I have a spare phone in my bag there."

Indiana watched her, eyes dark under the brim of his hat. He hesitated, but accepted her hand and stood. He didn't reply to her suggestion, instead jumping as their palms touched.

"God, your hands are freezing. You're cold as—" he stopped short and shook his head, mumbling under his breath. "Not even gonna think about it. I'm _not _going to think about it." Seras watched him quietly, feeling a familiar knot of pain unfurl in her chest. She pushed it aside with a sigh; no matter how special or "sociable" humans were, she was always, always going to be a monster once they found out the truth.


End file.
